


Snow for the Soul

by DaringlyDomestic



Series: Domestic Angsty Fluffy One-Shots [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:19:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5882476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaringlyDomestic/pseuds/DaringlyDomestic





	Snow for the Soul

"I. am. not. HUNGRY!" The plate makes a satisfying crash as it strikes the wall, and Sherlock relishes the sight of several shards exploding across the room. His breath comes quickly as he glares at John. Why would he possibly want to eat spaghetti? Really? SPAGHETTI?? Sherlock snorts derisively and folds himself into his chair. He sits with his legs drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around them, resting his face on his knees. Sherlock tries to slow his breathing and guilt starts to creep into his mind. John had only been trying to help. Rationally, he knows this, but he has been in a mood for days now. He is not thinking rationally.

John lets out a small sigh, but the window catches his eye and he smiles softly. He comes to stand quietly next to Sherlock’s chair and tentatively runs his fingers through Sherlock’s curls. Instead of pulling away, Sherlock leans gently into the steady pressure. This is a good sign. John stands for a few minutes just stroking Sherlock’s scalp. Sometime later, John tries to get Sherlock’s attention. "Sherlock?" The response is a soft murmur of acknowledgement that might have been John’s name if Sherlock had bothered to raise his mouth from his knees. "I want to show you something." John waits and eventually Sherlock raises his head making John smile. Even in his dark moods, Sherlock can’t resist a mystery.

"Come on, love." John draws Sherlock out of his chair and ushers him into his coat. Subconsciously, Sherlock’s back straightens into his public persona. John drops a quick kiss to his neck and the formality drops from his shoulders. Sherlock follows John down the stairs and out the door of the flat. "What, John? What could you possibly need to show me outside the flat right now? What can’t wait for…" Sherlock’s tirade is cut off the minute he steps outside. Baker Street is deserted and soft layer of snow covers everything. The undisturbed blanketed street is bathed in soft lamp light. The snow is still gently falling around them and Sherlock’s heart squeezes. No one has ever understood him the way John does. John doesn’t try to fight him out of his moods. John doesn’t get angry when Sherlock is distant and stuck in his own head (usually…John is only human after all). John had reached out gently and dragged him downstairs because he knew that Sherlock would love the quiet stillness of the newly fallen snow. God, Sherlock loves him.He can already feel the darkness receding from his mind and he smiles that wide genuine smile that John loves. He turns his face to the sky and shuts his eyes as the snow lands gently on his nose. This. This is all Sherlock wants. Life with John in the safety of 221B and snowy winter nights.


End file.
